Death on Spectre Island
by jaldore
Summary: Jaldore and his group attempt a rescue on Spectre Island


A day in the life of Jaldore - Paladin and Holy Knight of Truth

Night threatened to sweep across the land as the sun began to dip below the mountains to the west that framed the desert called Oasis. Dark clouds added to a sinister feel promising rain that had so far not come.

The small party made their way over to Spectre Island in a rowboat that had been tethered at the shore, its timber creaking as they crossed the choppy water. The wind started picking up as Jaldore eased the oars inside the boat letting momentum carry them silently the rest of the way.

Jaldore scowled at the island his dark hair whipping across his face, his mind drifting back to when he had last saw Shimerree.

They had grown up together in the Paladins guild, learning the art of their callings, blessing spells, healing, combat, writing, reading, horse riding and the ways of the holy order.

Inseparable the years had bonded them closely and as they grew so love had blossomed.

In his mind he saw their first kiss, saw her green eyes, her blonde hair and her smile that would still his heart.

A finer beauty he could not recall. He remembered that winters day when her parents had came for her and took her far away to the Clerics guild of Qeynos.

How the pain had started within and flooded him with sorrow. How eating lost its appeal, laughter seemed empty. He had spent sleepless nights gazing at the ceiling, the darkness tricking him with images of her beautiful face. Life for a while had lost meaning.

Upon leaving she had kissed him deeply, promising she would return to him. That she would not, could not love another.

He saw her face, the tears falling as she backed away from him, her eyes not leaving his as if fearing she would never see him again.

Jaldore had watched as her parent's carriage had taken her from Freeport and from the 18 year old trainee Knight that adored her.

A reassuring hand on his shoulder brought him from his thoughts and back to the present. He turned and a smile touched his lips.

"I'm fine Nara." He lied.

Naramira nodded and with a sigh returned her gaze to Spectre Island.

A shiver coursed through her at the site of this small haunted isle. It radiated menace and evil. A Pyramid type structure was centred in the isle's middle, the top of which lurked the undead Spectres.

Undead creatures feared throughout the land with good reason. Deadly and proficient with Scythes and with a touch that can drain life-force from the living, not many survived to tell a tale of an encounter.

The adventurers had fought hard to get here, coming through the inhospitable desert of Oasis past the undead creatures and bandits that roamed these cursed lands. Three long arduous days had passed since entering the desert lands, now at the end of their journey the adventurers looked up at the Spectre's pyramid with a mixture of fear and trepidation.

Silently the small wooden boat grounded on the sandy beach and Jaldore jumped ashore his hand on his sword hilt his eyes searching the darkness for signs of danger.

Azic Darkling held his hand out for Naramira as she stepped from the boat, her dark brown hair blowing out behind her.

Azic bowed as she smiled, his Dark Elvin eyes taking her in.

A cleric of healing, Azic had been a saviour more than once on this journey, the healing powers of his god Mithanial Marr helping to keep the party alive so far.

His unrequited love of the enchantress Naramira was not his only reason to join this group of adventurers on this quest.

His wife had been killed by the Spectres of this land, her body sliced apart cruelly by the Scythe weapon these undead creatures used. The rest of their party rooted with fear as Azic looked on helpless his spine broken in the brief battle, his legs unable to take him to his wife's side.

The tears and cry of anguish as her short life ebbed away were enough for the Spectres to let him live. For surely it was a crueller fate that they should let him carry on in such pain. For what could they do to him worse than they already had?

Azic was healed and his broken spine repaired by powerful magic despite his wish for death to take him.

Months passed and his anger grew as strength returned.

Now here with this group of adventurers he prayed to his god that he be given the strength to avenge her.

A year had passed since his wife had died, he felt no guilt for the way he felt about Naramira, his wife would want him to find happiness; it was the way of Dark Elves that followed the path of healers, rather than those that sought darkness.

The Warrior Santos made the fourth member of the group. He stepped off the boat and drew back his long blonde hair tying it into a ponytail.

His youthful fresh face made his beard look false, but he loved it and groomed it often with pride.

Money was his driving force and the Paladin had promised much.

He knew only that the young Knight searched for a girl cleric named Shimerree who apparently meant a lot to him. Santos had an idea that the Paladin had paid all his life savings to get this party together. Santos thought it madness; he would have accepted her death and found a woman of ill repute to rut with. Love was for the weak.

Anyway it mattered not, Santos feared nothing. Any opponent fell to his two handed blade.

He would finish here and return to Freeport, back to drinking and whoreing until his funds again ran dry.

Naramira felt Jaldore's anxiety, his fear that they may be too late. Her heart broke for him, she had only known him six months but they had grown close, their friendship strong.

She even hoped one day their friendship may be more. But now he needed her to save a love from his past and she would do anything to bring his smile back.

Her fear grew as the party closed in on the pyramid ahead. An enchantress of undoubted power she had trained much of her young life in the magical arts. However she could feel the power of this place and a fear grew in her mind that they were not yet ready for such a task.

She kept such thoughts to herself as she watched Jaldore's grim determined face as he donned his helm and cleared his sword of its scabbard.

A grim smile spread across Santos's face. He hefted his two handed sword and marched up the pyramids steps towards the Spectres waiting above.

"Follow me friends, today we dance with death."

Jaldore gripped his brawny arm as he caught up with him.

"Santos, this is no ordinary foe. These are undead elite; we must all work together as a group or we will all die here."

Santos shook his arm free, "Grip me not again like that Paladin, payment or not you will feel my blade."

Jaldore stepped forward his anger rising.

"Enough!" Naramira said as she stepped between the two men. "You want to bring the Spectres down on us?"

Both men slowly stepped back their eyes locked menacingly.

Naramira was getting tired of the bickering of these two; Santos was normally the instigator through his reckless actions and arrogance. She guessed if Jaldore hadn't been in such a rush and his need so great he would not have hired such a man.

Santos's shear belief in his own ability was more than over confident and she hoped he would not be the cause of their deaths.

Azic had recommended him and he now looked embarrassed by it. He shrugged as Naramira's eyes found his.

"Lead on then Knight." Santos whispered with a wave of his sword. "Lest the Spectres become restless."

Jaldore took a deep calming breathe and led them on, a grinning Santos a little to his left, the rest following behind.

As they cautiously ascended to the top of the stone steps to a small landing Jaldore could make out two Spectres, their black robes fluttering in the breeze, their deadly scythes glinting in the torch light held in their skeletal grips. Eyeless sockets radiated a red supernatural glow, one that sent a shiver down the Paladins spine.

Jaldore now had the group hidden by a spell that made them invisible to the undead; however it was already starting to fade as they neared the lit area.

Seeing that the landing was clear of Spectres apart from these two Jaldore allowed the spell to drop and struck out with his sword Ghoulbane.

The holy sword cleft the Spectres head from its shoulders before it had registered their sudden materialisation.

Santos swung his two handed sword at the second undead creature powered by battle harden muscles.

The Spectre managed to parry the blow but the shear strength of the warriors swing cut through the shaft of the scythe and into the undead flesh behind.

Azic had blessed both blades with the words of his holy gods making the undead susceptible to them, the creature roared in agony as the now holy blades bit deep.

Naramira launched a number of spells at once, her training making the process smooth and effective.

Both fighters were given stamina and strength boosts as well as weapon speed.

The undead creature cried out as they both cleaved into it and it crumpled to a heap at their feet no longer of this world.

Jaldore didn't pause for breathe but rushed on up the next flight of stairs towards the roof of the great structure.

The time for surprise and stealth was over, for the creature had let his undead kin know that they were here.

Leaping on to the top with Santos at his heels, he barley had time to get his sword raised as a scythe swung its deadly arc towards him.

Parrying with all his strength he countered with teeth gritted and found him self facing four Spectres their rotting faces leering at him, wanting to taste his mortal flesh.

A quick glance to his left and he saw Santos frantically fighting three of them, his mighty arms swinging the two handed sword in arcs around his head keeping the Spectres at bay.

Naramira and Azic appeared at the top step hands glowing with the spells recited from memory, intelligent eyes taking everything in.

The enchantress sent a green streaming light from her hands towards two Spectres trying to work there way behind Jaldore; they froze instantly, enchanted where they stood, helpless for a short time.

A scythe sliced through the chain mail covering Jaldore's ribs and he cursed himself for leaving his ribs exposed, he felt the sickening crunch as bone snapped and the warm wet feel as blood flowed fourth and run down his leg.

Ducking another scythe he brought his sword up through rotten dark robes and the animated flesh beneath, up and out through the creature's right shoulder sending bone and rotting flesh flying through the air.

Backing up towards the edge Jaldore started to feel his broken ribs, pain lanced through him with each breathe and his vision was swimming, he fought hard to keep himself from passing out.

Spectres raced at him and his sword again flashed expertly through the air decapitating the nearest who had made a mistake by over swinging with his Scythe.

Azic chanted and felt the magic of healing course from within him. Strong healing powers from the ancient gods, he sent it forth and watched as it bathed the Paladin in a blue aura, the spell taking hold instantly.

He sighed in relief as Jaldore's armoured frame became more upright, his breathing easier as bones knit and the blood flow stemmed.

Without pause Azic turned and aimed healing at the tiring Santos. His sword was dragging the ground causing sparks as he tried to keep the two remaining Spectres at bay.

Blood flowed freely from a deep gash on his brawny shoulder and a huge one across his stomach. The chain mail had parted and was flapping; he seemed to almost be holding his intestines in. His strength was failing fast.

Bathed in healing blue aura sent by Azic, Santos released his now nearly healed midriff and swung a mighty blow which cleaved the nearest Spectre in two as the creature was taken by surprise.

The second Spectre was alert and came at Santos fast its scythe a blur as it swung hard he parried the blow after blow as it backed him towards the pyramids edge.

Naramira felt the beaded sweat start to run down her face as she lost her battle of will to keep the two Spectres mesmerised, they broke free of the spell and with a roar of rage sprung back into battle.

Instead of attacking Jaldore they headed fast in her direction eerily floating inches above the ground.

After dispatching the second Spectre Jaldore raced to intercept the two heading for Naramira his sword already beginning a deadly arc. It crashed into the top of the creature's skull from behind sending shards of bone everywhere its high pitched scream piercing the night air.

The other reached her despite the spells she threw at it. Its bony hand launched for her throat, taking hold in a vice like grip. Pain like she had never felt crashed through her body sending her into spasms, she let out an ear splitting scream as every fibre of her being felt like it was on fire.

She could feel the creature draining her life swiftly and her limbs suddenly went limp as darkness closed on her, dark voices of the dead called out to her.

Azic felt drained after healing Santos, he had little mana left and could not afford to waste any; the battle was far from over.

Santos was fighting on the edge of the pyramid balancing precariously near the edge holding the undead back. To fall would be certain death.

Another Spectre had joined the attack on the warrior and he was becoming tired, his wounds superficial so far.

Hang on Azic thought as he tried to meditate for more mana.

A scream sounded to his left sending his heart racing. Naramira!!!!

Azic gripped his mace as he took in the sight of Naramira flailing frantically against the undead creature that was draining her life force and then she was still.

Exploding into action he ran towards the Spectre his mace held ready before him, murderous intent in his eyes, Santos long forgotten.

Seeing Azic crying out in rage and racing forward, the Spectre launched an unmoving Naramira through the air like a rag doll.

Azic could only grasp her as she crashed into him knocking the breath from his body.

He gently pushed her to the side and turned over, his armour seeming unnaturally heavy.

From the corner of his eye he saw the warrior Santos defiantly swing his sword, but tired arms betrayed him and the two Spectres parried the strike with ease.

A scythe cleaved off Santos's right arm at the elbow and the warrior's sword clunked metallically to the stone floor held limply by one good limb.

Azic stared in horror as Santos slumped to his knees, his face held a shocked expression.

Briefly their eyes met and Azic saw the fear that the warriors held. This was replaced by a pleading look that was almost childlike before the Spectres scythe removed his head in a swift motion leaving a fountain of blood to pour fourth.

Azic cried out in despair before regaining his feet on shaking legs.

Turning he saw Jaldore, his face contorted in rage below his helm, destroy the Spectre that had tried to kill Naramira, with spells and expert swordsmanship.

The final two Spectres advanced towards Azic who defiantly held his mace before him, his mouth dry, fear taking hold of wooden limbs.

Jaldore started to run hard but the gap was too far and Azic was cleaved in two as both scythes cut through him in a mirrored motion sending his mace clattering against the stone flooring and off over the side towards the sand far below.

The paladin stopped in shock at seeing his friend cut in two, he stared with disbelieving eyes unable to tear his gaze away from the horrific scene.

His foot nudged something soft that made him look down, someone lay at his feet unmoving.

Jaldore knelt beside Naramira's prone form; her life was barely there, her breathing ragged.

He removed his helm and glanced to the undead creatures.

The Spectres had moved back watching intently with those red eyes that habited those empty sockets.

The rain came then, increasing in intensity as it fell.

Jaldore released his only remaining healing spell into Naramira and watched as her breathing improved and her colour started to return to ashen skin.

Standing now with rain mixing with blood and sweat running down his face he faced the two remaining Spectres. They remained motionless.

A voice that could come from nothing that lived, cold and terrifying, emanated from one of them.

"We know why you have come Paladin. You seek the cleric woman."

Jaldore gripped his sword hilt so hard his knuckles showed white.

"A survivor from her party told me she was taken alive. That you had not killed her. For tonight is the night of the dark one. When you sacrifice in return for power."

Jaldore was frightened to test his voice further and his vision blurred.

That terrible voice came again.

"You knew we would sacrifice her to the dark one tonight Paladin. You hoped to get here in time to prevent it. A cleric and a virgin, she would have given us great power once the dawn had started to come."

Jaldore felt a sliver of hope flow through him.

"She lives then?"

The Spectres moved back and waved rotting arms in a circle to their right.

Jaldore at first saw a shimmering and then something materialised, a stone altar with a woman laying on it, her eyes closed.

"She was spelled from your view Paladin."

An uneasy pause ensued as the rain pounded down creating little rivers that flowed off of the edges of the pyramid.

"You have killed a great many of us tonight Paladin, and in your heart we see the love you have for this woman."

He knew then they would kill her in that moment.

Jaldore's sword was swinging as he closed the gap with a speed that surprised the Spectres.

One raised his Scythe too late and Jaldore's blessed sword crashed through undead ribs and out through the other side powered by shear rage and desperation.

The other swung his scythe at Shimerree's motionless form an inhuman laugh erupting from its rotting mouth.

Jaldore cried out as he tried in vain to reach it, but he was not close enough. Then shock registered as the creature was bathed in magic and held frozen in mid swing.

Jaldore blinked out rain from his eyes as he saw the robed form of Naramira standing unsteadily her arms outstretched her fingers still glowing.

Jaldore wasted not another moment of breath as he swung with all his might and watched as the creatures head left its shoulders in one mighty swing.

Dropping to his knees his breathing hard, he felt Naramira come to his side, her hand on his shoulder to hold herself steady.

"Wake her Jald."

He met her gaze.

"I'm sorry for Azic, he died bravely Nara."

Naramira turned, her eyes searching out his motionless from in the rain.

Jaldore watched her lower lip tremble as she tried to hold her grief.

"I will miss him; he was a good man, a good friend."

"He was." Jaldore agreed sadly.

Jaldore stood then and walked to the Altar.

His breathe caught as he saw her. She looked so peaceful there, so beautiful, no rain touched her, she was spelled.

He turned but Naramira was walking through the rain towards where their friend lay dead.

Turning back he placed his hands on Shimerree's sleeping form and recited the dispel magic spell.

There was a soft glow and then suddenly after a few moments her eyes slowly opened.

Her eyes found his and a smile lit her face.

Jaldore lifted her and she swung her legs over the edge of the Altar into his embrace.

He felt complete again; he never wanted to let her go.

She drew back and searched his eyes.

"My brave Knight, I should have known you would come for me."

Jaldore smiled as he moved her now wet golden hair from her brow and planted a kiss there.

"I would have fought the whole underworld for you."

She laughed lightly then, the sound sweeter to his ears than anything he could remember.

"Yes, I can believe that, "she said smiling, her hand caressing the side of his face.

Shimerree glanced about her surveying the scene. Her face turned to him, sadness etched on her features.

"You have lost people to save me?"

Jaldore held her gaze.  
"Yes."

She looked mortified then, as if something had just registered in her mind.

"What is it, what's wrong?"

"You should never have come!"

"How could I not?"

Shimerree stood and turned away her body shook with sobbing.

"Shimerree, talk to me."

She turned then, a sadness in her eyes that frightened him.

"I'm dying; they cursed me before they spelled me. Upon breaking the spell to free me the curse was called forth."

Jaldore's knees threatened to buckle. His vision swam his heart raced as dread gripped him.

She came to him then flinging herself into his arms.

"I have only just found you," he pleaded. "We can heal you, surely in Freeport."

She stopped him then with a finger to his lips.

"It's too late my love; I feel death taking me, even now it courses through my veins unchecked. It is my time. I accept it."

"Well I don't! "He raged anger taking hold as he held her out at arms length his eyes blazing with fire.

"Don't let my final moments be remembered with anger, hold me."

Jaldore held her close and felt her start to go limp, an icy dread set in the pit of his stomach. Lowering her back to the altar he kissed her mouth.

"I love you, I always have."

She smiled up at him with those beautiful green eyes.

"I know my brave Knight and I love you too, even in death I will love you."

With a smile her eyes closed and her breathing stilled.

Holding her lifeless form to him he cried, for her and for friends lost. But mostly for having to face life without her.

Naramira saw him coming; he held Shimerree's lifeless body in his arms. He looked so lost and distraught. She choked back tears as she followed him down the pyramid's steep steps. So much had been lost here this night.

Later once on the other shore, Jaldore gently placed Shimerree's corpse into the boat beside Azic and Santos and stepped back. With magic fire Naramira set the boat aflame and watched as Jaldore prayed for his lost loves soul and the soul's of the other two brave adventurers.

With tears in her eyes Naramira watched the flames blaze magically, a fire even the pouring rain could not dampen.

Jaldore's hand found hers and they stood then without words as they remembered those lost this dark day.

The end


End file.
